


Stiftrock

by misspe



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom Hannibal, Boys in Skirts, Crossdressing, Feminization, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-20 08:44:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9483431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misspe/pseuds/misspe
Summary: Will appears too early for his appointment. Hannibal is not prepared for it. Apparently.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry my English is all over the place, I'm no native speaker! Feel free to correct my mistakes. (I'm in serious need of a Beta, apparently...)

"Hello, Dr. Lecter."

Hannibal sat at his desk, drawing. When he heard Will's voice, he looked up.

His head flew back and the movement loosened a strand of his back-combed hair, which fell into his eyes. His lips parted. He took a breath and closed his mouth before saying, "Hello, Will."

Will smiled, a slightly uncertain gesture as he took off his jacket.

"I didn't want to scare you."

Hannibal swallowed, Will could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He pulled back the sleeve of his shirt and tilted his head slightly as he glanced at his watch.

"Quarter past six," Will added for him and sat down in the black leather chair. His armchair. He had spent so much time here that the furniture seemed to belong to him. At least some of them. The chair quite definitely.

"I did not expect you so early," Hannibal said.

His voice was soft, almost apologetic. Will frowned. For the first time he got the feeling he was a bother. Or he had disturbed something. Or interrupted.

In any case, something was wrong.

"Sorry," Will said. "We finished early today and I thought ..." Hannibal stared at him. With the usual patience, but he could also see something else in the red-brown eyes. A feeling that he knew too well. A feeling that belonged to him rather than to the quiet and fierce Dr. Lecter.

Horror.

The moment was short, before Hannibal gained his composure back. But it had been there. Will was sure.

"I should have called."

Hannibal smiled. Not with his mouth, just with the eyes. He put his pencil aside and looked at his drawing as he spoke.

"There's no need to apologize, Will. My door is always open for my friends." 

Will nodded, relieved. For a moment he had been thinking about going back home. 

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" Hannibal asked. "I'll be right back."

Hannibal rose from his chair. Something was different in the way he moved. Fluent, careful. Delicate.

And when Hannibal stood up, Will saw it.

The skirt was black and ended two inches below his knees.

Will forgot to breathe. He simply forgot. White and black dots danced before his eyes.

Hannibal turned his back on him. Above his hips he looked perfectly normal. He wore a white shirt with a tie and a dark green waistcoat that sat immaculate as usual. But downwards ...

The fabric of the pencil skirt sat tightly on his skin, and while he was walking, it gently swayed around the curves of his ass. The rear slit gave a clear view at the beginning of his thighs--and a touch of lace. Will blinked twice at that, but there's no doubt about it.

Hannibal's legs were long. Will knew that, but the trousers he wore otherwise hid the tight shape of his calves, the elegant line of his shins, which he complimented by an exquisite pair of high heels, that made him at least four inches taller.

The skirt fit Hannibal so well, it had to be tailor-made just like his usual wardrobe. His hips gently weighed with every step, turned to the side, without haste, smooth. Hypnotising. Will couldn't look away, even if he wanted to, even if his life depended on it.

That wasn't the walk of a man who was wearing those sort of shoes for the first time. That thought made Will shudder with want. When Hannibal touched the door knob with his fingertips, Will shouted, "Stop."

Hannibal froze in his movement. It gotten so quiet in the office that Will could not only hear the soft ticking of a clock, but also how Hannibal gasped for air.

Not to mention the blood rushing in his own ears.

Will rose from the chair. "Where are you going?"

Hannibal's shoulders sank a little as he tilted his head to the side and spoke more to the floor than to Will.

"I'll give myself something ..." He hesitated. "... appropriate to dress with."

Will shook his head, slowly and then more definite, although Hannibal couldn't see it.

"No." His heartbeat stumbled, drumming loudly in his ears, amazed at his own courage. "Come here. Join me."

Hannibal obeyed. He walked up to him with these gentle moving steps, which ignited something in Will.

Heat.

This heat was devilish, it crept through his body, down his spine and left his mouth dry.

Hannibal stood by the desk, his hands folded in front of his lap, just a few steps away from him. His face was open and curious. He didn't flinch at Will's examination. In the light of the reading lamp, Will could see that Hannibal's legs shone dull. He was wearing transparent tights and his legs were shaved. 

"How do you like it?" 

A jerk went through Will's body. He felt torn from a dream. With a little effort, he managed to turn his gaze off Hannibal's slender ankles that led into black pumps.

"It's beautiful" he said, his voice breaking at the edges.

Hannibal's eyes searched his face and when they didn't find mockery, a cautious smile spread across his features. A delicate, rosy glow lay on his cheeks. Will liked that. A lot. He had never seen Hannibal like this before. There was an androgynous femininity in his behavior that made him look strong and fragile in equal parts. Will's curiosity became a god, who demanded his first sacrifice.

"Pull up the skirt." 

Hannibal gasped and Will's heartbeat doubled as long, white fingers spread like a fan over the black fabric, and glided down the sides of his thighs to the hem. Hannibal leaned slightly forward, but didn't let Will out of his sight as he did what he was told. He uncovered his legs. His fingers clung to the skirt as they pushed it up inch by inch. Much too slow. 

Hannibal's eyes ghosted over the bulge in Will's pants--a look he could feel like liquid fire on his skin. It made his cock twitch and his blood sing. Hannibal paused as he reached the fine lace of his stockings. 

"Will ..."

"Go on," Will said, his own voice sounding dull and distant in his ears, almost like a stranger. "I want to see it all." 

Hannibal breathed out, long and deep as he revealed the last secret that the skirt kept hidden. A silky, red shimmering panty that didn't leave much to imagination. It was small and the material so soft Will was sure he could swallow the whole thing with a glass of water. So fragile as if it would dissolve between his fingers into dust when he touched it. 

Oh, and he wanted to touch it. 

The realization hit him with relentless force, like a low blow to his stomach. Will heard the drumming of his own heartbeat inside his head, and the pendulum swung, without consciously setting it into motion. 

"You wear those garments under your suits."

Hannibal didn't answer, he just stared back.

"Sometimes the stockings." Will tilted his head aside. "Always the panties." 

"Not always," answered Hannibal. His voice was low and crumbled a little. He spoke slowly, for his accent paralyzed his tongue. "Only when I meet with you." 

Will wanted to laugh, but he just let out a faint sigh that felt lost between them. 

"Would you like to know why?" 

"I know why," Will whispered. 

Hannibal barely nodded. His left hand was now spread out on his stomach, while the right hand was pushing down between his own legs. 

"Don't. Touch."

Will was determined, but not unfriendly, and Hannibal stopped in the middle of the movement, just before the the finish line. And because he knew Hannibal would obey, as he did since he walked into his office today, (and didn't he felt a low satisfaction at that, which frightened him) he added, "Turn around. Bend over the table."

Hannibal breathed deeply through the nose. His lips were slightly open, and Will thought that now was the last opportunity to say something--anything that could keep him from doing what he was going to do, what he was about to do. But Hannibal closed his mouth again, pressed his lips together and said nothing. He turned around as he was, with a raised skirt, and bend over his own desk. He leaned on his hands and looked over his shoulder, searching Will's eyes. 

Will didn't remember taking the steps, but it took only seconds and he was standing behind Hannibal, so close that he almost touched him. He could, but he didn't. Not yet. A task that cost him all his willpower. His cock grew so hard it became painful. It was an uncompromising lust he had not felt in ages, maybe even never before.

"Will," Hannibal said.

"Do you use makeup?" 

"Occasionally." 

Will nodded in a dreamlike way. He looked at the red panties that kept his gaze like some sort of black magic, "I want to see what's beneath it." 

"Then look," Hannibal said.

"Do you do anything I tell you?" 

"I trust you."

Will laughed briefly - a dry, hoarse bark which sounded desperate in his ears. He hooked two fingers under the silky fabric and pulled it to the side. The skin here was as flawless as it was on Hannibal's legs. Not a single hair, not even on his balls, which were at least as swollen as his. 

"Fuck," Will said, then he leaned over Hannibal's back, pressed his body against him, and burned a kiss into his neck. Hannibal almost collapsed, his body shook violently under his. He laid flat on the table, reaching for his back, fishing awkwardly for Will's arm and leading his hand to his lips, sucking on two of his fingers.

"Oh fuck," Will said again, trying not to think about how it would feel if instead of those fingers his cock twitched in this hot, wet hell of a mouth. Will came almost then and there. In his pants, like a goddamn teenager, without a single touch. He felt helpless.

"Will."

Hannibal's voice vibrated in his chest. Will took a deep breath, shivering, closed his eyes and counted to three before pressing his fingers which Hannibal wiped with his spit against the opening between those legs.

Just to find out that it was already damp and wet there. Will, panting, withdrew his hand, as if the wet heat of the inner flesh burned him.

"What did you do?" he asked, breathless, but of course he knew the answer.

Hannibal breathed flat, his cheek pressed onto the table, just repeating his name, ( _Will Will Will_ ) while his hips were moving back and forth, seeking friction and contact.

He had prepared himself.

Will took a step back and opened his belt buckle. "You lied, Dr. Lecter."

Hannibal closed his eyes and swallowed dryly. His hand wandered along the edge of the table, once up and down again, finally holding himself tight. Will opened the zipper of his pants and let them slide from his hips. His fingers slipped under the waistband of his boxers'.

"Did you plan that?"

"Not planned," he replied. "Hoped."

Hoped to get caught.

How often was he sitting behind his desk in his waistcoat and the stockings and shoes and the panties, (that _goddamn_ panties) waiting for Will to show up? Will had heard enough.

With his knee he pushed Hannibal's thigh aside, grabbing his hip with one hand and tearing the red shred of fabric from his body with the other.

This was really as easy as stealing a baby's lollipop.

"It cost $ 965," Hannibal said.

"You have others," Will replied, "and I intend to see them all." Hannibal sobbed. Will pushed his hips forward and drove into him deeply.

Hannibal groaned and clung firmly to the table, which was pushed forward with a loud scratch. The lamp landed on the floor, the light bulb burst and darkness filled the room.

Will paused, trying to breathe. It was tight and hot inside this body. He thrust again, again and again and again, until he had found a rhythm that appealed to him, fishing for those sweet sighs from Hannibal's mouth, which soon passed into stifled moans.

The clothes bothered. He dug his fingers into Hannibal's waistcoat, pulled and tugged, pressed, clenched a fist, and let go. How gladly would he feel his heated skin. Tear the last remnant of fabric into small pieces. He whispered into Hannibal's ear, and felt that he was clenching around him, almost unbearably tight.

Hannibal came and hissed Will's name like a curse through his teeth. He was completely ruined--the hair disheveled, his shirt wrinkled and sweaty, his cheeks red, his mouth open, enjoying the last waves of his release.

Without Will touching him once.

"Damn it."

Will followed him silently. He bit his lower lip as his hip pushed back and forth, into the heat of the body beneath him. He collapsed, landed on his knees and finally fell backwards. His heart was racing. He turned his head to the side and saw that Hannibal had set himself up.

His chest lifted and fell as fast as Will's own. Hannibal watched him closely, unsure as how to proceed. Almost shy, even after everything they did seconds ago. 

Will held out his hand.

"Come here," he said, and smiled weakly. "Come to me."

Hannibal took his hand and Will drew him close, stroked his head, spread kisses on his face--forehead, temple, nose, lips, lips, lips...

He closed his eyes and murmured, "Next time you'll wear make-up."

Will felt a smile on his neck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uhm. My hand slipped and now we have a second chapter.

"May I help you?"

The saleswoman looked at Will from top to bottom with a smile which showed too many teeth and didn't reach her eyes. A man rarely got lost in the cosmetics department. Will couldn't blame her for the confusion.

He knew he looked out of place, like a clown at a funeral.

"Yeah, I'm looking for something ...", he paused, because he simply didn't know. He would when he saw it.

"How about something kiss-proof?"

Will hesitated, considering. In his head he saw Hannibal's mouth, red and sore kissed. His thumb pressed into the lower lip, leaving a messy trail as he was brushing it down his chin. And wasn't that a becoming look on Hannibal Lecter's face? Heat crawled into Will's cheeks and into his belly. And lower still.

"I don't know," he said, avoiding the womans gaze, who looked at him attentively until she finally smiled and leaned her head aside.

"Will it be a gift, or is it for you?"

"A gift," he replied, feeling the heat in his face extending to his ears.

She nodded discreetly, touched Will at the elbow and led him to the back of the shop, where the goods were presented in illuminated glass boxes.

She showed him a selection: "These are very nice here. All Dior, 40 Dollars each. Natural colors, doesn't dry the skin. Or," she said, looking at Will's face,"would you rather like something more daring?"

Will nodded briefly and swallowed. The woman opened the glass and handed him a small stick. The lipgloss lay heavily in his hand and seemed to radiate heat.

"A classic Snow White, wouldn't you say?"

Red like blood. Will shuddered.

"Perfect shine and fabulous skin care. Contains three different, moisturizing oils. Unfortunately it's not kiss-proof, but if you ask me, that's overrated." She looked at him from the side, her eyes sparkling conspiratorially. "As it appears to me, your priorities lie elsewhere."

Will gasped, closed his fingers around the stick. His palm got sweaty.

"I'll take it."

**

A week passed before he saw Hannibal again.

Will appeared ten minutes too early for his appointment. To his great dissapointment, there were no surprises this time--Hannibal hid his legs in the usual trousers. Nothing in his behaviour hinted at their carnal intercourse. The crime scene was cleared. Hannibal even already replaced the lamp, which got broken when Will had fucked him on the desk. An attempt to erase what happend between them?

Maybe he misunderstood, Will thought. And that was that. No encore. It was all just in his head.

Except it wasn't. Not this time.

Hannibal's desparate little huffs, pleas and moans echoed in this office, still. He heard them, wanted to hear them again.

"Is there something you would like to discuss, Will?"

Will snapped back to reality. The look on his face must have betrayed his thoughts. He took a deep breath and said: "Yes, actually there's something on my mind." Or rather in his pocket. The little gift he bought for Hannibal was glowing with heat, burning through the fabric of his pants into his skin since the minute he stepped into Hannibal's office.

Hannibal crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, revealing his ankles, which were covered in black socks. So, no stockings today, Will thought.

Always the panties.

Not always. Only when I meet with you.

"Which colour?" Will asked.

Hannibal blinked, opened his mouth, licked his lips and then paused, readjusting his face. "I beg your pardon?"

"Does it match the tone on your skin?"

The blush on Hannibal's face slightly deepened. Will waited, while his heart leaped in his chest. Somewhere a clock was ticking. His fingers curled around the little gift inside his pocket. If he didn't get an answer from Hannibal, he could still drop the subject. For good. Leave the office and toss the present in the trash. Never think of it again.

Impossible.

"No", Hannibal said finally and added, "black as midnight on a moonless night."

Will shuddered while he let out his held breath. "Silk?"

Hannibal nodded once.

"I want to see it", Will confessed. "I want to touch it." He closed his eyes. "I want to tear it apart."

Just as much as I want to take you apart.

Hannibal was silent for a long time. Will met his gaze steadily.

"Not today."

Will laughed--a weak little sound, short and pressed. "Of course not." He rose from his chair and walked over to Hannibal. "I have a gift for you."

Hannibal stared at Will's held out hand, before he took the little box and opened it cautiously. His throat worked, as he caressed it with his fingers. "Is it what I think it is?"

"Yes."

After one more moment Hannibal closed the box with a deafening snap, let it slid into his pocket. He tugged at his sleeves, averting Will's eyes for a brief moment, parted his lips, closed them again, then said: "I would love to have you for dinner. Tomorrow night."

"Will you put it on?"

"Yes", Hannibal breathed.

"I'll be there."

**

Will looked into the rearview mirror and stroked through his curls. He'd took a long shower before he drove to Baltimore, but his hair wasn't damp from the water. He was sweating. His anticipation gnawed at his nerves with agonizing dedication.

The whole day he didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't have any lectures and Jack didn't call him either. For once he could use the distraction, a little murder case to keep his mind occupied, instead of thinking about all the delicious ways this evening could end. Neither his dogs, nor the river were able to calm him down.

Will felt raw and too sober. His throat was dry. He could use some whisky. Surely it seemed like a great idea to turn up drunk at Hannibal's doorstep. He fell back into the car seat with a sigh, leaned against the window and peered at the dashboard.

7:25 pm.

Way too early. Again.

Early enough to drive back home. Early enough to end this, whatever... this was.

"Fuck this shit."

Will got out of the car, slammed the door shut and walked straight over to Hannibal's house. He knocked three times, loud and sharp and waited two whole seconds, before he entered Hannibal's house with the keys he gave him. Warmth greeted him, the faint tunes of a piano and the smell of something that would be undoubtably delicious.

"Hannibal?"

Will didn't have to look long. Hannibal stood by the end of the staircase, one hand on the rail, his last step down frozen in time. Will didn't know what he'd expected, but he was sure there was nothing that could've prepared him for that sight.

Hannibal's dress was a dark, teal dream made out of silk, glittering in the dim light like a starry night at the South Pole. It reached all the way down to the floor, but there was a long slit on the side, revealing a glimpse of his legs up to his thighs and it left his arms and shoulders bare, clinging to his body in impossible ways. This wasn't a dress, it was art painted on Hannibal's skin.

And then there was the red shimmering lipgloss Will gave him, which made his supernatural appearance complete.

"Hello, Will", Hannibal said. Will just stared with a hammering heart in his chest. Hannibal swallowed, otherwise his posture remained calm and unmoving. "You are early. Again."

The faintest touch of rebuke colored Hannibal's voice. Will didn't apologise, instead he moved closer to get a better look on Hannibal's lips.

"Doesn't seem so."

Hannibal tilted his head, raising his eyebrows in silent curiosity.

"Looks like you're ready to me."

For me.

Will came to a halt as he reached the staircase. After a long hold gaze, Hannibal took Will's held out hand and stepped down to him. Will had to look up anyway, Hannibal still towered him about a few inches due to the high heels he wore.

Hannibal averted his eyes as he asked: "Do you like it?"

Will touched Hannibal's neck, stroked his freshly shaven cheek with his thumb till he reached the curve of Hannibal's lower lip. He dared to tug at Hannibal's chin until their eyes met again.

"Very much."

Hannibal's mouth partet as he sighed with relieve, trembling under Will's fingers. Desire, hot and swift, rose inside Will. Those feelings became much too compelling too fast, achingly demanding and all-consuming. He did't know how it was possible, but the red color made Hannibal's lips look even more sinful. A mouth which begged to be ravished.

"How does it feel?" Will asked.

"Soft. Would you like to have a taste?"

"Yes." Hannibal tilted his head, but Will withdrew. "On my cock."

Hannibal's eyes darkened. For a thrilling moment, Will thought he went too far with his outrageous demands. And then Hannibal fell to his knees right before him. Without a word he opened Will's pants with busy fingers. His hand slid inside, pushing down Will's boxers to expose his swelling cock. When he grasped the shaft, Will groaned helplessly.

Finally finally finally...

Hannibal caressed him reverently, just with the tip of his fingers, before he went further down to the balls hanging below. He nosed at them, inhaled deeply. Will gasped, grabbing at Hannibal's hair in search for support. A bead of precum spread stickily under Hannibal's thumb while Will's pulse pounded loud in his ears. One last lingering look and a lick over his red painted lips, then Hannibal swallowed the whole length down.

"Shit."

Hannibal smiled around him. He took Will to the back of his throat. The slick, velvet heat of Hannibal's mouth was overwhelming. He pressed his face deep into Will's crotch, almost violently and buried his nose in the dark hair he found there. Will cursed again as he struggled to remain his position. Hannibal's hands came around him, his fingers grabbed Will's ass tight, dragging him even deeper inside.

Will's hips began to thrust involuntarily, already searching for completion. Hannibal became still, opened his mouth just a fraction more.

"Yes", Will hissed, as his hand caressed Hannibal's cheek. He pressed his thumb into it. The red of Hannibal's lipgloss smudged his chin. "That's good." Hannibal huffed through his nose, looked up and moaned around Will's cock. Will sighed a prayer and then he was fucking Hannibal's mouth in short jabs.

It wasn't easy for Hannibal to accommodate his hammering thrusts. He gagged and choked, his teeth scraped Will's flesh and in the end that was all he needed. Will stilled and spilled his release with a silent shout. Hannibal was eager to take it all, but it was too much. Some of Will's cum ran down Hannibal's chin and dropped on his chest. He wiped it off with his fingers, groaning deeply as he licked them clean with hooded eyes.

Will sank down to his knees, took Hannibal's face in his hands and kissed him, lapped at those swollen lips with his tongue until Hannibal gasped for air. He pushed at the gown, reached for Hannibal's hard cock and laughed in surprise as he found it uncovered.

No panties today.

"You tricked me. Again."

Hannibal buried his face in Will's neck, panting hot puffs against sweaty skin, whispering his encouragement (yes, yes, God, yes), while Will's hand worked. He didn't apologise. Will pressed a wet kiss on Hannibal's shoulder, then he bit down hard. Hannibal cried out loud, shuddering, thrusting into Will's hand two more times before he came, sticky and hot.

They held each other until their breathing calmed down. Will felt dizzy but content. Actually happy. He couldn't help but laugh, while he stroked Hannibal's back lazily with one hand.

"That escalated quickly", Hannibal said with a rough voice. "I didn't expect that."

"Don't lie to me", Will murmured into Hannibal's hair. "You were free-balling today, knowing fully well I would show up sooner or later."

Hannibal hummed. "You left me no choice, since you keep threatening my underwear."

Will shrugged. He was right. "So, what about dinner?"

"I fear it's ruined." He left Will's arms in an attempt to stand up. Will pulled him back against his chest, holding him tight, whispering into his ear: "I'll make it up to you."


End file.
